


Thunderstorms And Lullabies

by rosettaevans16



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: M/M, Sadness, Why do I do this, jeanmarco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-09 05:33:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1970847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosettaevans16/pseuds/rosettaevans16
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Keep it safe for me, alright?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thunderstorms And Lullabies

**Author's Note:**

> Listen to [x](http://humanitys-cleanest-corporal.tumblr.com/post/92013123845/the-dick-lord-levi-marcos-lullaby-the) and [x](http://www.rainymood.com/) for best effect

Jean Kirschtein sat by the window in the boy's barracks, leaning his head against the glass and watching the torrent of rain outside pound into the dirt. In his lap sat a small wooden box, worn from years and years of use. Names of previous owners scratched onto the surface littered the exterior of the box, giving it an even more battered look. Jean smiled sadly as he ran a thumb over the most recent carving.

Marco Bodt.

Marco, as he had told Jean, received the box when he was eight years old as a gift from his mother, who had received it from her mother, and so on. It had been in their family for as long as anyone could remember, and it was the one thing he'd brought with him when he enlisted in the military. "Should anything happen to me," Marco had said one night, in their second year of training, "I don't want anyone else but you to have it. Keep it safe for me, alright?" At the time, Jean had laughed it off, saying that nothing was going to happen to them, and that they would be safe as soon as they finished and joined the Military Police. He never dreamed…

Jean ran his finger over the small brass latch, before unclasping it and opening the small box's lid. Immediately, the soft slow sound of the music box washed over him, and he closed his eyes, allowing the sound of the roaring thunderstorm to mingle with the quiet melody. He remembered how the song used to ease their nerves whenever something frightened Marco or whenever Jean began doubting his ability to continue on. He remembered the countless times one of them would wake up from a nightmare, and the other would comfort them, and they'd pull out Marco's music box and listen until they had both fallen asleep to the soft lullaby.

Marco's music box. No, not anymore. It was Jean's now, just like they agreed. He kept it safe for his best friend, just like he'd promised all those years ago.

The sky opened up in a flash of bright light, and a thunderous crack ripped through the air. Jean squeezed his eyes shut, pulling the wooden box closer to him.

Hey, Marco. It's me.

Do you hear that, that song? I kept it safe, just like you asked.

I wish you would take it back. It shouldn't be mine. It should still belong to you,

Hey, can you hear me?

I miss you, Marco…

Jean bit his lip, opening his eyes. He refused to let himself cry; he had made a promise back then, too. He would be strong and keep moving forward. He would fight for humanity and make his best friend proud. There would be time to cry for the deceased afterwards.

"Hey Jean," Connie called, stepping into the room and looking down at him. "It's time for dinner. Are you coming?"

"In a minute," Jean responded, his voice rough from lack of use. "There's something I need to do. I'll be right behind you." Connie nodded, and disappeared behind the doorway. Jean looked down at the box in his lap, smiling sadly before reaching underneath the bed and grabbing a nail. He brought it to the wooden exterior of the music box, scratching something in beside the freckled boy's name.

Jean Kirschtein.

He pushed the lid of the music box closed, and groaned as he stood back up slowly. Reaching down, he placed the worn little box underneath his bed, pulling the covers down and exiting the room.

Hey, Marco. Thank you for lending your music box to me.

Is it alright if I hang onto it for a little bit longer?

I'll see you later.

**Author's Note:**

> Credits to my beta, for going through this crap with me ----> http://archiveofourown.org/users/mercuryandglass/


End file.
